The Hidden Truth
by ShadowGrace
Summary: Emma Halstead has a secret that she's kept for years: she can move objects with her mind. And she plans to just push it to the backburner and pretend that it's just an anomaly that should be kept hidden. But then four strangers show up, saying that they have the secrets to her past, to her powers. Emma must decide whether to trust them, and what to do now that she knows the truth.
1. Keeping Your Enemies Close

_**Full Summary:**__** Emma Halstead – popular soccer star with a crippling sarcastic streak and a quarterback boyfriend. Emma Halstead – a girl who can do things she isn't supposed to be able to do. Emma's always seen herself as two different people, one who has dreams of playing soccer professionally, and one who's able to move things just by willing them to. As she gets older, her two separate lives start to collide in more ways than one, and she knows there's no way for them to exist together. The promise of her freedom comes in the form of four teenagers who say they can tell her the truth about what happened to her before she was even born. She has to decide whether to believe their crazy stories of experiments and evil scientists, or to risk her sanity for the sake of a normal life, even though it always seemed like it was out of her reach.**_

**This is, in fact, a remake of my previous fanfiction by the same name. I wasn't happy with the way it was going, and decided to change things around because I was still enthralled with the idea of this story. I've decided to change the plot a little, as well as the characters. I hope any of you that have read the previous one (which only made it about three chapters) can forget about what I've previously written and enjoy what I'm writing now.**

**This story is rated T for TEEN, since all the characters are at least fifteen and older. There will also be romance, some language some parents might not like (really, there's no super bad words), the mention of parties, and some "cartoon" violence (hand-to-hand combat, etc.)**

**This story takes place at the end of The Reckoning, the third book in the Darkest Powers Series.**

**DISCLAIMER: Some of these characters will be of my own creation, but some of them will be the creations of the Darkest Powers author, Kelley Armstrong. All rights regarding the Darkest Powers series belongs to her, not to me.**

_The Hidden Truth_

_1: Keeping Your Enemies Close_

I couldn't stand Rebecca Casey, mostly because she was a lying, back-stabbing, cheating little imp with the IQ of a rock and a bad habit of making her already short cheerleading skirt shorter. She was orange, like an oompa loompa that escaped Willy Wonka's chocolate factory and never quite found her way back (blame the IQ), had perfectly highlighted hair, and faked a face with the amount of makeup she wore. And somehow, she was still loved by the majority of the population, excluding me and my close friends. I couldn't count the number of times that I'd seen her looking at my boyfriend and winking, or waggling her fingers in a sultry hello. And then there was the times when she attempted to torment me solely for her entertainment, because she liked it when someone else lost their cool. Just seeing her made me want to rip her blonde extensions out.

It didn't help that it was first period athletics, which was when the cheerleaders got together to practice their routines, the track and field girls used the football stadium, the softball girls used the diamond, and the soccer girls used the practice field. There was just too much estrogen in one space. Personally, I thought the cheerleaders should go inside with the basketball and volleyball girls, but apparently that was too much to ask for.

"Rumor has it that she's gotten back with Forrest, and by golly, they're the cutest couple ever. Gag me." Nichole, my best friend, said as she undid her gloves and stuffed them under her arm. "You'd think that people would shy away from stupidity, but apparently that's not the case. Maybe it's spreading. Like a disease. Do you think we're immune?"

"God, I hope so." I replied, rolling my eyes and turning away from the cheerleading pyramid. A part of me prayed that they'd all fall flat on their faces, if only to wipe Rebecca's smirk off her face. "If not, we're moving. You think Canada is nice this time of year?"

Nichole grinned and tugged on the hem of her bright mustard yellow practice jersey. It was the one thing she hated about her position on the team ("Mustard is a condiment, and should've never been considered a color."), but she dealt with it because she was the best goalie in three towns, and everyone knew it. "Me and cold weather don't mix. How about Hawaii?"

"If you buy the plane tickets," I replied without missing a beat.

"Hathaway, Halstead, pay attention, would you? Pick up the cones, or else you'll be picking them up for us next week, too!" Coach yelled out to us. Coach was the type of person that looked ageless, with her skin tanned and freckled and slightly wrinkled from all of her time in the sun. For all we knew, she could've been thirty or fifty. We had a running joke that she was immortal, and when our kids were stuck going to the purgatory of high school, she'd still be here, looking the exact same as she always did.

"Sorry, Coach!" Nichole called back. She picked up the first cone, and together we gathered them. The other members of our team were racing back to the locker rooms, because not only did we have to share our morning practice time with every other female sport, we also had to share our locker room with the basketball and the track girls. The room was about half the size of our cafeteria, but it was still too many people crammed together in one space, especially when half of them were waiting to take a shower.

Luckily, Nichole and I were office aids in the library for our second period (as volunteer work, it went to our graduating credits), and Mrs. Hems never minded if we showed up late. Besides, she was so old that she was practically deaf and blind, and I had the feeling that she marked us present because she often mistook the life-size cutouts of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson (her heroes) as us. I had no idea how, but I didn't question it.

We were just stepping off the practice field, the bright orange cones (I was pretty sure some of them had been stolen from a construction site) and a mesh bag of soccer balls in hand, when the cheerleaders gathered together. They had their own outdoor portable as their headquarters, complete with a mirror, cubbies for their stuff, and all of their supplies for making spirit banners.

"Look who it is!" Rebecca called out as she drew closer. She sashayed from side to side in a way that just _had_ to be calculated for maximum attention-grabbing. I stifled the urge to roll my eyes. Rebecca fluffed her hair with one hand, eyeing me with the same disdain someone might show a cockroach that showed up in their house. "How've you been, Emma?" She asked in a sugar sweet voice. I was pretty sure that just hearing it was giving me cavities.

"Fine," I said, short and to the point. I would love to manage to get to class without suffering from one of Rebecca's verbal jabs. If I had to give her a compliment, it would be that she was the queen of thinking up those comments that managed to dig under your skin for hours afterwards. Whenever I spoke, I just shot off something snarky that would be quickly forgotten. But not Rebecca, oh no, because being forgotten was not in her vocabulary.

"And how's Jared?" She asked, flashing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. I imagined devil horns growing out of her blonde hair. "I invited him to my party tonight, as I'm sure you know. He said he'd talk to you, but he would probably come. You don't mind, do you?"

I gritted my teeth together, forcing myself to take a deep breath. Rebecca wasn't your average bully. Nobody was off limits to her. If it was a usual high school cliché, I should be off the radar, because the only thing that made me less popular than her was that I didn't show my legs off to the entire school district or prance around in front of the guys, fishing for compliments. If this were a regular high school cliché, she'd pretend to be nice to me while talking about me behind my back.

It was a good thing that I wasn't your typical high school student, then.

"Shame," I said as calmly as I could manage, starting to swing the bag from side to side. The top of it tied off, like a trash bag. The ties sucked, though, and one of them was so frayed that it was only minutes away from ripping completely. "Jared and I have a date tonight," I lied. We hadn't talked about what we were going to do tonight, but it was a Friday, so I assumed that we'd do something. A part of me boiled at the idea that Jared had agreed to go to Rebecca's party without asking me about it, because he _knew_ that Rebecca and I didn't get along. I'd agree to go anywhere else, as long as we – or he, since I would absolutely _refuse_ – didn't go to Rebecca's.

Rebecca's perfectly formed façade fell for a second, but then it was back. I couldn't tell if she knew that I was lying, but she pretended like she wasn't bothered in the least. "Oh, I'm sure I'll see him around then." She glanced at her cuticles, then looked up at me for her second jab of the day. "He's so nice. He promised that he'd help me after school whenever I needed him. We have to lug all this stuff out to field for every football _and _baseball game, and it's just a pain, you know? So sweet," she cooed.

I shot a glance over to the mesh bag I swung back and forth in my hands. Just like I remembered, the one tie was frayed beyond all saving. Not even duct tape could stop that. I glanced away, imagining the rope in my head, and then I began to saw at it with a mental knife. I knew I shouldn't use my gifts for evil, because with great power comes great responsibility (thank you, Spiderman) but Rebecca needed to be taken down a notch. And it wasn't going to hurt her in anyway, besides maybe bruising her ego.

I discovered my freakish ability when I was about fourteen. I'd just been really mad one day at something I can't even remember, but there was a moment where all I'd wanted was something to go my way. I remembered festering over it, and then a phone call had pushed me over the edge. I'd thrown my cell phone across the room, and right at that time, the cabinet doors in the kitchen flew open and plates hurled over my head. Luckily, my grandmother hadn't been home, and only a few plates had been broken. I pretended that I'd accidentally broken them while clearing out the dishwasher, and that got me out of Gran's suspicion, for the most part.

Over the past two years, I'd learned to hone my ability. At first, it had been hard, because stuff used to tremble and shake and threaten to break whenever I lost control of my emotions, but now I was able to restrain it for the most part. Once, I'd even managed to push Gran's Volkswagen a few inches down the driveway when no one was looking, and I hadn't really been _trying_.

So I knew, with one hundred percent confidence, that I could make that bag rip open. I felt it give the moment the thin rope snapped, and with deadly precision, I aimed a soccer ball right into Rebecca's stomach. The force of it threw her back a few inches, flinging her to butt. Her _oof_ was audible to everyone, including the softball girls, who were carrying bats over their shoulders a few feet away.

Everyone paused for a moment, completely shocked that the great Rebecca Casey had been taken out by a soccer ball. I didn't get the praise for doing it myself, but I didn't really mind. And this way, I couldn't get in trouble, because it was so very clearly an accident.

"Oh, my God," I exclaimed, though even to my ears, my voice sounded fake. Nichole burst out with laughter, completely unbothered by the fact that she probably should've been silent. Nichole's laughter spread over the area, and soon enough the softball girls were giggling to themselves, and I caught a few of Rebecca's precious followers trying to smother their smiles. "This bag is just so old. I told Coach yesterday that it needed to be replaced before it just completely came apart." I swooped down and took the ball from her hands, and made a big deal out of putting it back with the others. I swung it over my shoulder, sure I looked like some Soccer Santa, but it didn't really matter, not when Rebecca was embarrassed.

Nichole turned me on my heel with her hands on my shoulders, and together we walked away, leaving Rebecca sitting on the sidewalk with her cheerleader wannabes surrounding her. As soon as we took a few steps they burst into mindless chatter, like a bunch of birds in the morning, loud and kind of annoying.

"That was so great. What were the chances?" Nichole asked, still riding the high of upping Rebecca, just for that moment.

A part of me felt bad for it. But that jealous girlfriend part of me, the part that called for a catfight, said that she deserved it. A girl like Rebecca seems to be loved, but everyone despises her deep down inside. She's just too cruel, too hateful, to others. And someone had to teach her a karmic lesson. Maybe that someone shouldn't have been me, but I just couldn't wait for the Universe to do it itself.

# # #

By lunch time, a picture of Rebecca, legs sprawled out, face turning pink with anger, had made its rounds via picture mail. Someone had snapped the photo just moments after the laughter had started. I put my vote on one of the softball girls, because of the angle of it and the obvious use of zoom. Nichole didn't care who took it, just that someone had.

My best friend would never admit to it, but Rebecca had scarred her in more ways than one. Nichole was gorgeous, always had been, with her coppery blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and her thin, willowy body with just enough curves in just the right places. If there was a school-wide poll on who was prettier, Nichole or Rebecca, I was fairly confident that Nichole would win. Even so, during our eighth grade year, Nichole and Forrest had a thing… and then Rebecca came along, and stole Forrest away from Nichole with her annoying _ta-ta_ wave that she always used on Jared.

Nichole had moved forward easily enough, at first. Then Rebecca and Forrest broke up within the first month of our freshman year, and he'd come crawling back to Nichole. She took him back, but by December, he was back in Rebecca's grasp. Ever since, we'd decided that Rebecca wasn't happy unless she was ruining other people's lives, and taking their boyfriends was just the cherry on top of the sundae.

"Did you hear?" Ali asked, sitting down at our cafeteria table. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Jared sat with his football friends while I sat with mine. On Tuesdays he sat with me, and on Thursdays I sat with him. Since today was Friday, Ali, Nichole, and I had taken our usual table in between the popular kids and the art kids. Ali was the best artist in the entire school, and everyone knew it. "One of the teachers got the principal involved, and now they're saying that they're going to catch whoever took that photo and spread it around, because bullying isn't tolerated."

"Bullying?" Nichole echoed with a guffaw. "They must be blinder than I thought, if they think Rebecca's the one being bullied. I swear, we're surrounded by idiots. Emma and I are moving to Hawaii. You in?"

"I've always wanted to live by the beach," Ali mused. She ignored her food tray, which was stacked with the mixed fruits section of the salad bar. Ali was a vegetarian, and was always lamenting the lack of options in the school cafeteria. Nichole always told her that it was because the food was technically all vegetarian; there wasn't a way on this planet that their chicken nuggets were actually made of chicken.

Ali opened up her sketchpad and pulled out a wooden pencil from her backpack. She didn't look up as she started to draw. "Point is, they're really cracking down, and word has it that you guys orchestrated the entire thing."

Nichole snorted. "Right, because we planned for the bag to rip and a soccer ball to go sailing." She eyed the parfait she'd gotten – creamy yogurt, crumbled graham crackers, and strawberries – and glanced over at me. "Well now's the time to fess up, Emma." She said. "We all know you planned it."

For a moment, true fear spiked through my heart. Nichole couldn't know about my gifts, because I'd never told anyone. I hadn't told Gran, and I never told my friends, because as much as I trusted all of them, they'd probably think I was crazy. I once videoed myself moving things, just to prove to myself that I wasn't hallucinating, and I'd actually caught footage of me forcing the things in my bedroom to slide from one side to the other. I'd deleted the footage, not only because I didn't want it to be seen, but also because it kind of freaked me out a little bit.

Nichole laughed at my expression, and said, "See, that's what I like about you, Emma. You always go along with whatever joke I'm trying to play." She grinned broadly, and I forced myself to smile back. She was just joking. She didn't know about my abilities. And she certainly didn't know that I'd thought she was being serious. Because if she did, she would've been questioning me about it, not pretending like I was just playing along. She was my best friend, but she really never let anything go unsaid. If she knew I kept secrets from her, she'd be ticked.

I opened my mouth to reply when an arm draped over my shoulders. Ali looked up for a moment, then went back to her drawing. Nichole smoothed out her face into an artfully nonchalant expression. I knew from the set of her mouth alone that it was Jared. Nichole liked him, to a point, but since Rebecca had set her sights on him as her next victim, she'd started watching him with narrowed eyes. Even Jared was aware of it, and had once asked me what was wrong with Nichole.

"Hey," he said into my ear, smiling broadly as he pulled out the extra chair I'd put my backpack on. He sat down on the edge and leaned towards me, putting his back to Ali. "I wanted to ask you about tonight."

My body stiffened for a moment, because I suddenly remembered the fact that I'd told Rebecca that Jared and I had a date planned for tonight. If we didn't show up together, she'd know that I'd lied, or she'd assume that Jared had broken things off for tonight, just so he could go to her party. "Right," I said loudly, "because we have to go to that um, movie tonight. Remember? We planned it?" I was acutely aware of the fact that I sounded a bit desperate. Nichole kicked me under the table.

"What?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "I don't remember planning to go to the movies." He sat there for a moment, and then said, "Emma, I'm sorry I forgot. I told Rebecca that we might show up at her party, but we can always go to the movies first, and her party later, if you want. You know how late she usually throws them."

I did. Rebecca was notorious for throwing big house parties, complete with booze, music, and hook-ups. I'd never been to one, out of my loyalty to Nichole, but Jared had before we got together. He'd been to one when the seniors last year got busted for driving drunk. They hadn't told that they'd been at Rebecca's, but they'd been kicked off their sports team and slapped with a hefty fine and some time at juvie. It only happened last year, but people treated it like the scandal to beat all.

"Or," I said, "we could go to dinner, then a movie. We haven't done that in a while."

Jared seemed to think about it for a second, as if he really didn't want to skip out on Rebecca's party. The thought of that hurt a little bit. I could tell that Nichole was waiting for his reply. If he said that he'd rather ditch me and go to the party than take me to dinner, she'd be all over him in a second. I couldn't help but think about how lucky I was to have her.

"Yeah," he said. "That sounds good. We haven't done that in a while." He smiled brightly, and I let out a sigh of relief. Nichole's shoulders relaxed and she picked at her parfait like she wasn't listening at all. He stood up, kissed my cheek, and said, "I'll see you at seven."

# # #

I wasn't really sure how relationships worked. I knew that sounded weird, but I was only sixteen, and Jared was my first serious relationship. We'd been dating since January of our freshman year, putting us at a total of ten months together. I'd even heard that we were the couple of our grade, aside from Forrest and Rebecca, who were always off and on.

But just because we had the title of "cutest couple" didn't mean that I knew what we were supposed to do. Our ten months together had showed that we didn't really have that much to talk about. For every hour that we spent together, we spent two hours doing our own thing. We didn't fight because if things ever seemed to be on the verge of a true blowout, either one of us gave in to the other's demands or we promised to talk about it later. He never forced me into trying to do something that I didn't want to do, and I never acted all hurt by the fact that sometimes, he didn't go to my soccer games the way I went to every one of his football games. I thought that we had a good thing going, with a little give and take and some understanding.

But sometimes, I wondered if I was just fooling myself. I'd seen other people's relationships, and they were so in love, they wanted to spend every moment together. Even if they didn't fit in the same way Jared and I did, it was still so much more. I wondered if I didn't feel enough of that passion, if it was something that got stronger over time, or if it was something that we just lacked altogether.

And then I told myself that I was being stupid, because Jared and I were _perfect_ for each other. It was like a golden rule that Jared and I were together, because it just sounded better that way. _Jared and Emma_, not just _Jared_, not just _Emma_, but the two of us together.

I pushed the thought of my mind and focused instead of the conversation of football. It was Jared's favorite topic. I didn't blame him, not really. His dad was really into football, and had always told Jared that he needed to try his hardest at it. Mr. Worth didn't care about his son's grades unless they affected his chances at playing. He didn't care that Jared had many friends, or that he'd been dating me for nearly a year. It was all football, all the time, in the Worth household.

Jared pulled up to our favorite diner, the first place that he'd ever taken me on a date. It was the type of place that was a throwback to the fifties, a time that neither we nor our parents could remember, but they sold good burgers and milkshakes, and Jared swore that they had the best fries in the entire county. It was our go-to place for a date night.

We got our usual table in the back, and put in our orders. I was sipping from my milkshake when I saw them. They came in as a group, four of them, two guys and two girls. Three of them had black hair, though I could tell from a distance that one of them had dyed their hair, and the fourth was blonde. I had no idea why they caught my attention when they walked in, but they did.

They took a booth in the other corner of the diner. The tall boy, with black hair and baggy clothes, carried what looked like an atlas of the country. His other hand was wrapped around the wrist of the smallest girl, the one with dyed-black hair. At first, I wasn't sure what they were, but it wasn't long before it was obvious they were a couple. They sat far too close together to be just friends, and the guy kept looking around the diner, like he had to do everything in his power to protect the girl.

The other girl was taller, with long dark hair. She looked bored and a little out of place, like this wasn't where she'd chosen to go. For some reason, it was easier to imagine her being somewhere fancier, where they served steaks that cost twenty dollars alone. It might've been the haughty way she held herself, which reminded me, unfortunately, of Rebecca.

The fourth, a boy with limp blonde spikes and dark, almond-shaped eyes, seemed a little oblivious to his surroundings. He took the atlas from the taller boy, opened it up, and dug a pencil out of his pocket. A part of me wondered if he was an artist, because Ali did the same thing, carrying around pencils so she could draw whenever inspiration hit. He put the tip of the pencil to the page and started tracing something, probably their route.

They looked too young to be out driving around in the middle of October. They looked like they were my age, sixteen. They shouldn't be driving cross-country. They should've been back at school. But unless all of them had recently moved here together, they didn't go to my school. I had the feeling that I would've recognized them if they did.

"What're you looking at?" Jared asked.

I blinked a few times, focusing back on him. I hadn't realized that I'd completely toned him out, and had put all of my attention on the group in the opposite corner. A flush crawled up my cheeks. I probably looked like an idiot, staring at them while I was supposed to be having dinner with my boyfriend. A dinner, I might add, that I'd lied to him about planning in advance.

"Nothing," I said. I smiled at him and twirled the straw of my milkshake. Jared and I had gotten burgers and fries, the best food the diner could offer. I picked up one of my burger halves and took a bite. Jared eyed me and did the same.

"Are you okay?" He asked after I swallowed.

Him noticing that I wasn't as present as I should've been surprised me. There were times when he would talk for literally _hours_ without realizing that I wasn't paying attention. Once, he kept talking even though I'd gotten up and gone to the kitchen to get something to eat, and he hadn't realized I'd left until I came back. I coughed a few times and grabbed my milkshake, trying to clear my throat. My eyes watered, but I still made myself look at him. "I'm fine." I replied. "I swear."

My eyes trailed back to the group of teens, and Jared reached out to cover my hand with his. "You can tell me anything, Emma."

As if the world slowed down for a second, I could imagine that line echoing over the expanse of the diner. In truth, it probably did, because there weren't that many people here at seven. This place was more of a hotspot with the older crowd, and they ate dinner at like, five. Besides us, there was the group of teenagers and a few other patrons that I recognized as regulars.

The boy with the dark hair looked up so suddenly, it was like he'd heard someone call his name. His eyes focused in on Jared, and then he bent his head towards the black-haired girl in the booth next to him. She pulled out a few pieces of paper, folded over to fit into her pocket. He unfolded them, his finger skimming down the pages. He paused, and looked up. I could've sworn that he sought me out specifically. I could feel his eyes burning a hole in me.

Swallowing hard, I finished the last few bites of my burger, chugged the rest of my milkshake, and pushed my fries over to Jared. "I'm just going to go to the bathroom." I lied, suddenly eager to get out of there. "Help yourself." I said.

Jared watched me, like he thought that maybe I was going crazy, but he nodded. I forced myself to smile at him, because he wasn't alone in thinking that I'd just lost a few marbles. "I'll be right back." I told him, then slipped out of the booth and rushed to the sanctity of the women's bathroom. It wasn't the best place to hide out, even for a few minutes, but it would have to do.

**Woo! First chapter is done. To be honest, I struggled with this a little bit, which was kind of a surprise. I'm still trying to hammer out the rest of my plot, but I have a good idea of the ending, and I have the feeling that this isn't going to be very long. I'm planning on it being more of a novella-length fanfic.**

**Anyway. If you've read fanfics by me before, you know that I always, **_**always**_** beg for reviews, because I love them more than anything. I like to get a handle on how many people are reading each chapter, and both comments and criticism is accepted, because I'd love to know your thoughts on how to better my writings.**

**As always, I skimmed over the chapter in an attempt to edit, but I may not have caught everything. Please, ignore those mistakes if you find them, don't let them ruin the reading experience. Favorite or follow this story if you want to read more. I can't promise that my updates will be regular, but I wanted to go ahead and get this out for you guys. Thanks so much for reading!**

**Peace (:**


	2. Deal or No Deal

**GigglingFangirl – Bring on the watermelons. It's summer! That's like, a food staple. (:**

**ouran4eva – I'm glad! Thanks for reviewing!**

**Gee Buttersnapps – Thanks for checking out some of my other stories. I intend to continue and finish this one, for sure. (:**

**SnowWhite1864 – Thanks!**

_2: Deal or No Deal_

The diner's fifties theme stretched into the bathroom. The floors were tiled black and white, and there were records and photos of influential women from the decade hanging in wooden frames on the wall. The entire place smelled a little bit like bleach and fake lemons with that nauseating public bathroom undertone. A fake potted plant sat in the corner of the sink, collecting dust. I didn't really have to go to the bathroom; I just wanted to get away from Jared's sudden perception and the burning gaze of the dark-haired guy.

For bathroom standards, this one was pretty clean, so I didn't feel all squeamish when it came to leaning against the black silver-flecked counter. My finger fell into a puddle of water around the edge of the sink as I dipped my head and forced myself to take in a deep breath. I turned on the faucet and washed my hands, splashing water over my face and on the tips of my ears, which were strangely hot. Without looking up, I reached out mentally for one of the paper towels. I heard it tear a bit with the force I'd pulled it, and it floated over to me. I grabbed it before someone walked in the room, patting my face dry.

The door swung open with a slight squeak behind me, and I straightened so quickly I clipped my hip on the edge of the counter. Wincing, I crumpled the paper towel and went to throw it in the trash bin, already pasting a smile on my face for whichever old lady was coming through the door. But it wasn't an old lady. My stomach clenched with nerves when she walked in.

I was the type of person that had a gut instinct and trusted it more often than not. I fully believed that people just gave off vibes, and the ones coming from the group of teens were confusing. At first, I'd been just intrigued by them, because there was something about them, something that I couldn't quite put my finger on, that made them stand out from everyone else. But then the tall, dark one, the one that looked around the place like he was expecting trouble, set his sights on me, and I suddenly felt very threatened without him saying a word.

This girl wasn't as threatening as her comrade, but she carried a tension around her that didn't sit well with me, almost as if the air was static around her. I faced the mirror and played with the hem of my shirt, pretending like I was just primping before I returned for my date. I didn't want to just slip out the door the moment she walked in, making it obvious that she was affecting me. Why else would she have followed me in here? Unless she really had to go, but she wasn't dashing for one of the stalls, and that made me uneasy.

She leaned forward and played with her hair in the mirror. The way she was messing with it suggested that she wasn't used to it being as long as it was; I did the same thing when I cut my hair short in middle school. Swallowing, I ran a finger under my eyelashes, collecting any running mascara. I didn't know if she felt the same tightness in the air as I did, but she didn't seem to be bothered by anything. Deciding I'd stood there long enough, I turned to leave, and she spoke.

"I wouldn't leave just yet, if I were you." Her voice was light, but it had enough bite in it that it reminded me, distantly, of Rebecca. It was just sugary sweet, with that undertone of venom.

I froze with my hand on the door handle. I could practically hear her smirk in the mirror. Turning on my heel, I forced myself to raise my eyes to meet hers. "What do you mean by that?" I asked, relieved that my voice didn't waver.

"I'm looking for an Emma Halstead." She said. Sudden fear shot into me, and I swallowed hard. She finished fixing her hair and turned her dark gaze on me. "It's a small town, you know, and I figured that you looked about the right age for Emma." She added, making a point of sizing me up.

"W-Why are you looking for Emma?" I stuttered out, instinctively pretending that it wasn't me she was talking about.

The girl looked at me with clear disdain. "Listen, we all heard that guy call you Emma, and really, how many Emmas are there in a place like this?" She practically sneered. I bit back the urge to get defensive. Sure, there were times when my friends and I had complained about how small our town was, and how there was never really anything to do besides go to the outlet mall, which got old, or go to the bowling lanes, which was expensive for our tiny budgets. But for her, an outsider, to come in and start staying bad stuff about the place I'd grown up… I didn't like it.

"So, are you Emma Halstead or not?" She asked, putting a hand on her hip. She narrowed her eyes at me, and something about the way her eyes and face were shaped made me wonder, only vaguely, if she had Asian ancestry.

I opened my mouth to reply – I still wasn't sure if I was going to be honest, or if I was going to be sarcastic – when the bathroom door swung open again. My jaw closed with an audible click, but apparently I didn't have to worry too much. It was just the other girl, the shorter one with black hair. It was glaringly obvious now that it was dyed; it had that same dull, over-processed look that Ali's hair had when she bleached it last year. That wasn't the only thing that reminded me of Ali, though. This girl was just as small and birdlike in her frame. This girl's eyes, though, were light blue.

"Tori," she said softly. I glanced at the other girl sharply. That was her name, then. Tori glanced over at the other girl, her eyes still narrowed. "Derek told us that we should handle this more… delicately." She sent me an apologetic glance, as if she knew who I was, too. I swallowed hard.

What would four teenagers be doing looking for someone like me? I was normal, except for my ability to move things. But I'd been _so_ careful to keep it hidden. I'd never told anybody, and usually I only used my powers when I was alone, or when it was impossible to put actual blame on me, like what I'd did with Rebecca. If that was why they were here, how did they know?

Seeing a possible exit, I started to slip around Tori. My fingers just closed around the edge of the door when a hand landed on my shoulder. I froze for a second, then forced myself to look up at Tori. She rolled her eyes dramatically and said, "Not so fast. You're Emma Halstead, aren't you? Just tell us the truth. We'll figure it out eventually."

The smaller girl looked like she was about to object. Tori had a point, though. If I didn't tell them who I was now, they'd find out later. Gran shared the same last name as me, and I knew she was in the phone book. It wasn't like I was well hidden. Next thing I knew, they could be cornering me at my house, or at my school, instead of just a diner bathroom.

"Fine," I said, narrowing my eyes. "I'm Emma Halstead. What do you want?"

Tori seemed pleased that she'd gotten a confession out of me. I wanted to tell her that it wasn't her detective skills that talked me into giving my identity. It was fact that they'd be able to find me even if I ditched them now. And since I didn't know what they wanted from me, I couldn't be sure if they'd be angry when they found out I'd lied. So the truth it was.

"Hi," the shorter girl said, stepping a little bit in front of Tori. She brushed her hair self-consciously behind her ear. "My name's Chloe. And we'd like to talk to you, if we could. It's kind of important." I already liked her better. At least she didn't seem to think that she could push me around.

"What's it about?" I asked. I tried to think of what it could be, but my mind came up blank. If it was anything family-related, Gran would've heard about it before me. I didn't recognize their faces, which I didn't think I could forget, and their names didn't ring any bells.

Tori nearly snarled at me. "It's something you're going to want to hear. Isn't that good enough?"

Chloe cleared her throat. "It's about your past. And Tori's right. You're going to want to hear it." I had to admit, my curiosity was piqued. There was a lot of stuff that I didn't know about myself. Gran didn't like to talk about it, and my mother had been AWOL since she dropped me off with my grandmother for a weekend and never returned. I had no clue who my father was, and if Gran knew, she wasn't talking. When I was younger, not knowing had been a huge problem in my life. Since then, I've gotten over it.

But with only a few words, they brought the need-to-know feeling back to me. If they knew anything I didn't….

My chest felt tight, like someone had sat directly on top of me and was digging into my ribs, trying to crush my lungs with their grip. I wanted to know, but how could I trust them? "Well, I can't talk right now. My boyfriend's out there, waiting for me. We're supposed to go to a movie." I said. My entire body was rigid with anxiety. I clenched my fists, so Tori couldn't see my shaking fingers.

"Fake sick," Tori replied sharply. "And go home. We can meet you there. We already found a Halstead in the phone book." Her lips curled into a small smile, but it wasn't one of friendliness. It was as if she'd won a silent competition. I could nearly see Rebecca's face overlaid with Tori's.

"That's my Gran." I said defensively. "I swear to God," I began, about to tell them what exactly I'd do to them if they harassed Gran in any way, but Tori cut me off with a snort and a dramatic eye roll.

"Chill, we're not going to do anything to dear old granny. Just go home." As she said the words, her eyes lifted up to the ceiling, scanning the edges. What was she looking for? Cameras? Somehow, for just that moment, she seemed more vulnerable, less hard.

I sucked in a breath. It seemed like I didn't have a choice. I could always tell Tori to screw herself and return to my date with Jared. But Tori knew where Gran lived. I wouldn't pin her for a psycho murderer, but there was a darkness in her eyes that said she'd seen things people our age never see. Chloe's gaze echoed the same, and even though she was obviously softer and kinder, I sort of feared her.

And even if I continued my date with Jared, it wouldn't be happy and carefree like I wanted it to be. Tori and Chloe had ruined it. We stared at each other for a long time, all three of us completely silent while we waited for my answer. Honestly, I was surprised that Tori was waiting, instead of pushing me against the wall and threatening me to do whatever she said. That seemed more her style.

"Okay," I said. My voice sounded distant, even to my own ears. Chloe let out a breath that I hadn't noticed she'd been holding and gave me an easy smile. Tori didn't grin at me. She just gave me a short nod and headed for the bathroom door.

Chloe looked back at me as she followed Tori. She paused and said, "All we want is for you to hear us out. After that, you can ignore us forever, if you want." Without waiting for me to reply, she was out of the bathroom, leaving me completely alone.

# # #

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jared asked. He had his left hand on the wheel and his right on the gearshift between us. He looked over at me, his eyes filled with concern. He'd asked me the question a hundred times from the moment I slid back into our booth to now.

Most girls complained that their boyfriends weren't attentive enough. And most of the time, I was kind of the same way. Jared was sweet, but sometimes he talked too much about sports or partied too much or did the exact opposite of what I wanted. But now, all of a sudden, he was _too_ attentive. I wanted him to just drive and drop me off.

"Yes," I answered, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice. If he heard it, he might choose to start asking about it, which would make me mad. My anger would set off his temper, and before we knew it, we'd be in a fight about nothing in particular. We'd had a few fights, but they only lasted a few hours at most. I always feared, though, that one day he'd turn his back on me for good.

I angled my body towards the window of his car, gazing out the window. I'd agreed to meet with Tori and Chloe, at my house of all places, because I didn't see any way out of it. They knew where I lived, and if I'd argued with them, they might have turned on me. I didn't know what they wanted, but they were just teenagers. They couldn't have anything _that_ important. So what was with all the cloak and dagger?

"Babe, are you sure?" Jared asked.

"_Yes_," I snapped, exasperated. I glanced over at him. He was frowning, his eyebrows drawn together. He wouldn't say it, but I could see the hurt behind his eyes. I never yelled at him, ever, and he never yelled at me. We were perfect. I just wasn't acting like it. I sighed. "I'm sorry. I just really want to go home."

His eyes stayed hard, but he nodded, accepting my apology. That eased my guilt a little bit, but I still felt bad. Jared turned onto my street and parked at the curb in front of my house. "Thanks," I said. I turned to face him, leaning over the gearshift. I went to give him a goodbye kiss, but he turned his head the barest fraction at the last minute, so I caught the edge of his lips. He was just mad at me, but it still stung. "I'm sorry I ruined tonight. Rain check?" I asked, quelling the urge to cross my fingers for hope.

"No problem," Jared replied, giving me a slight, forced smile. It didn't reach his eyes. It made me feel worse. "We'll get together some other Friday." He added, and I wondered if that was a jab. Just as football season started to wind down soccer started up. We only had weeks in between our seasons, and most of those were spent with friends and family as the holidays swept by.

"Okay," I managed, pretending like I wasn't bothered. We weren't fighting, I told myself. We were just… not on the same page. "I'll see you later, then." I said.

"Yeah, later," he echoed. I stepped out of his car, only halfway up the drive when he pulled away. I felt like I'd been stabbed in the gut. Usually, he waited until I was at least at the front door before he drove away. He must be madder than I thought.

I sighed and paused in the middle of the driveway, looking up at the house. Gran was probably watching some cooking show inside, not expecting me for a few more hours. I glanced around the yard, half expecting to see dark figures hiding in Gran's flowerbeds, waiting for me to come home. But I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. It was just our regular brick house, shingled roof, and painted shutters. Gran's shrubs needed to be trimmed, and her flowerbed needed to be weeded. She loved to do those kinds of things, but she couldn't spend a lot of time outside anymore, and her old knees wouldn't allow her to weed the place. I should've been doing it, but it always seemed like I didn't have the time.

I was about to make plans to complete Gran's yard work when I heard the sound of a car pull up a few houses down. It was an old van. I realized I hadn't bothered to check and see what kind of car Tori and Chloe rode in. I probably should've.

I wasn't in the beam of the headlights, but I still froze. The van's rumbling came to a stop and the lights flicked off, plunging me back into the night. The front passenger door opened and a small frame slipped out. I didn't need much light to see that it was Chloe. She stepped up to the front as the taller guy from the restaurant stepped out of the driver's seat. Tori wasn't lying. They were here.

I couldn't let them into the house. I didn't want them around my home, around Gran, especially when she didn't know the lengths that Tori had gone through to get me to agree to this. So I made a split second decision and headed back down the driveway, back towards them. As I did so, I took note of the trashcan and the recycling bin at the end of the drive, things that I could pick up and throw at them. I could make the van move, too, if I wanted to. Everything that wasn't nailed down was at my disposal. But I didn't want to use my abilities in front of them.

I had no idea what they wanted from me. At first, I was scared that they were looking for me because they'd heard what I could do. Then I thought that maybe it was because they had information about my past. Maybe they knew something about my father, or my mother. And then I wondered: what if they were the same thing? What if my abilities were because of my parents?

But they hadn't given me anything, so I wouldn't give them anything. Fair was fair.

"Emma?" Chloe asked as I neared.

"Yeah, it's me." I answered. Immediately, I took the defensive. They'd made me feel cornered in the bathroom, and I hated that feeling. Now, I would be the aggressor. Let them be cornered. "What do you want?"

All four of them stood in front of me. They were all silent, hidden partially by the shadows. I eyed them nervously. There were four of them and one of me. I figured that given my weird anomaly, I might be able to get into the safety of the house. Bu that was only if the four of them were completely normal, and if I wasn't normal, who could say they were?

Someone cleared their throat and stepped forward. It was the blonde guy. He was distinctly shorter than the other boy, but he was still taller than me, if only by a few inches. "My name is Simon, and that's my brother Derek." I glanced over at the tall guy. _Brother_? They didn't look related at all. But his name was familiar. I was pretty sure Chloe had mentioned him while we were in the bathroom. "And I'm pretty sure you already know Tori and Chloe," Simon added.

"Um, _yeah_," I said. Even I winced at how sarcastic I sounded. Pretending like I didn't care or was extremely put out was my first defense. It made me feel like nobody would dare stop me. "So what do you want from me?"

"You aren't lying about being Emma Halstead, right?" Simon asked, quirking one eyebrow at me.

"Do you want to see an ID?" I shot back. Simon seemed to be waiting for one, and I snorted to myself. "I promise I'm Emma Halstead. Why would I lie about being the one you're looking for? If anything, I would lie and say I _wasn't_."

"It matters because it's important," Tori said sharply, her words digging at me. I could already tell that there was no possible way we could ever get along. That wasn't so bad, because I wasn't planning on being around her for much longer.

"What could be so important?" I asked.

"How about we promise to tell you everything, if you promise you're not going to freak out and go call someone." Simon said.

"Wow, that sounds comforting." I said. Simon gave me a look. He was being serious. He _wanted_ a promise like that from me.

I paused. What could be so important that they wanted me to promise to keep it a secret? I couldn't imagine anything being _that_ important. I should turn my back and tell them to get out of there or I would call the police. I should completely ignore them, and pretend that I'd never met them. But I couldn't, because my curiosity was growing. What did they want to tell me?

Swallowing hard, I took a strong stance and said, "Deal."

**Thanks for reading! Please leave me a review of your thoughts. Peace (:**


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